


You don't see me objecting

by Askell



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: 19!Damian, 24!Jason, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Biting, Bloody Kisses, Fighting Kink, Hate Sex, Humor, Kinky, Loud Sex, M/M, Manhandling, Moaning, Muscle Kink, Nipple Piercings, One Shot, Piercings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Rimming, Scratching, Sharing a Bed, Size Kink, Smoking, Strength Kink, and they were ROOMMATES, big fucking mood, college mood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 06:49:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14350167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askell/pseuds/Askell
Summary: Jason hadn't expected the kid to execute his threat so easily. It wasn't like it washisfault, after all. Roy was the one who had set the bed on fire. The punch got him right under the jaw, sending his teeth crashing with a dizzying strength.





	You don't see me objecting

**Author's Note:**

> This is a small one-shot written in the hopes to motivate me for the absolutely huge multi-chapter I'm preparing for you all. I'm talking 10k and they haven't even met yet. You're gonna love it.
> 
> This is for Molim (who gave me the idea for the title), Minyard and Skalidra who are great for brainstorming smutty scenarios <3
> 
> Please don't forget to leave a comment if you liked, I read them all and they're my pride~

For lack of less fancy word, Jason was irate.

First semester. First class. Only one year to go before his doctorate. He could do it.

Ethics in pre-modern Europe was two easy credits he intended to earn with the minimal amount of work, having already had variants of the contents earlier in his studies. Mix up a bit of history, philosophy, classical literature and common sense; straight As guaranteed. 

As usual, he had sat on the third row, door side of the class. Smiled to Miss Quinn, whom he had known for years now. Her teaching style was unconventional, but rewarded creativity much more than brainless information-dump. Jason also knew she had a passion for drama and debate, which she never missed to put into practice in her classes. Her Feminism in the Twenty-First Century class had been so rowdy, she nearly single-handedly started a nation-wide movement against conjugal violences. He had, of course, been at the front line.

He had walked in with confidence. Fifty students at most, all buried in their books and no longer interested in any form of socialization. Which suited him perfectly. Seniors like him tended to no longer care about trivial things such as fashion, friends or their own health. Dressed in the same ratty leather he always donned, tarnished jewelry clinking at his wrists, an old once-upon-a-time red bandana around his left combat boot, Jason looked every part of the 'punk is dead' he had once stitched on the back of his jacket.

Among the mass of tired students, there was however one small figure sitting on the first row. Only freshmen did that, as well as wearing actual dress shirts at school. All that black made him look paler than his olive skin really was, smaller as well. Jason snorted as he opened his stickers-covered computer. Baby-faced students sometimes ventured in classes way up their level, out of curiosity. Himself had done the same in his first year. Except he had also graduated in every single one of them. The dark-haired kid would probably drop before the class ended.

Then Jason also noticed he intended to take notes _by hand_. With a _fountain pen_. What a fucking hipster. He remembered in second year having seen someone with an actual, honest-to-god typewriter. Needless to say, that person hadn't lasted the whole six months. He texted his former roommate Roy about the situation, to set up the bets. A discreet photo of the kid's ramrod straight back was added to the conversation for good measure.

He almost got caught doing so, as the freshman turned around to ask something. Those deep blue eyes swept around the classroom with an apparent disinterest, catching on Jason's slouch for a single second before returning to their initial point, to the definitely blank blackboard. Not so bad-looking, for a hipster, Roy was informed.

A loud giggle accompanied by circus music on loudspeakers announced the beginning of Miss Quinn's class, as usual. The freshman looked ‘ _shooketh to the coreth_ ’, Jason sent to his friend. He tuned out for the rest of the high-pitched, over-excited explanation of the syllabus, which he already knew. Thank whoever is up there, no group presentations. Those were his pet peeve, his doom, his bane. And the reason why everybody was so rightfully scared of him. Apparently, slamming your fist on the table while yelling 'this is a dictature, obey my orders' in a crowded library tends to have that kind of effect.

Miss Quinn called their names, cooing appreciatively at every student she had had in the past without fail. 'Damian Al Ghul' was a name as fancy as its bearer, which made Jason want to retch. Rich kids, not at the exception of dearest friend-with-benefits Richard Grayson, tended to be dicks. Literally, in the latter's case. By comparison, 'Todd' screamed working class, if only because he wasn't the only one wearing it in the district. After all, it wasn't a surname most of them had chosen. Immigration bureaus and children services are terribly unimaginative.

The thought escaped his mind when Miss Quinn called for a debate. Had he been a cartoon character, Jason would have rubbed his hand while laughing manically. Debate was his time to shine, his way of showing the world that he was more than just a pretty anarchist. All the idiots who believed he could barely spell his own name correctly were put back in their place by him, who had read more books in the room than some teachers themselves. Not to brag or anything.

Now, back at the reason for Jason's absolute rage.

The kid. That fucking kid with his fancy pants and aristocratic smirk. Who had been the fiercest adversary Jason had ever seen since trying to convince Roy to stop welding in the bathroom. Hell, he might have even been better than Dick. Honestly, having to see his gnome face only once a week would be on the edge of tolerable.

Finding those immense blue eyes, with all the thick lashes framing them, openly scowling at him from the remains of what was once Roy's bed explained why he was so angry. His friend was an idiot, but one blessed with genius. His experiments often led to much screaming, smoldering, and half of the bathtub temporarily dyed pink. 

The latest one, however, had him removed from the room as his bed had been... disintegrated. Now Jason knew the dorms were overcrowded. Sometimes the two-people rooms were turned into three-people dwellings, ignoring the potentiality for chaos this arrangement had.

There was no chaos which could be compared to Mr. Richie Rich and his pet fountain pen finding out he had nowhere to sleep. Whoever had decided to place him at the last minute’s notice would most certainly hear about it.

"This is purely an utterly unacceptable. I demand explanations."

"Well you see David-"

"Damian."

"Whatever. This bed is mine by virtue of I was there first, and the pile of carbonized plastic there is supposed to be yours. Guess you will have to find a hotel for the night. And the rest of the semester, the repair team is known to be lazy."

Judging from the crease of his thick eyebrows and the way his upturned nose crunched, the kid was considering physical violence. Jason rolled his shoulders, asserting his strength. If that was where he wanted to take the argument, he would be glad to damage his pretty face as long as it kept him away.

"I am going to take this to the student management office."

"Nice thinking, very wise, except it's 1pm. They won't re-open until tomorrow, around 10 maybe?"

"The sign on the door says-"

"Told you, bunch of lazy fuckers."

"Listen to me you _twat_ ," the freshman began, interrupted by Jason's loud snort.

"Sorry, I didn't know people said that in real life. But please go on Sherlock, you were saying?"

"It pains me to show such a lack of control, but be informed of my ardent desire to break your teeth."

"Well it pains me to inform you that I'd like to see you try, asshole."

Jason hadn't expected the kid to execute his threat so easily. It wasn't like it was _his_ fault, after all. Roy was the one who had set the bed on fire. The room still smelled like a plastic recycling factory. The punch got him right under the jaw, sending his teeth crashing with a dizzying strength. Thankfully, his tongue hadn't been out, otherwise he could have kissed it goodbye.

Quick on his feet, barely stumbling, he retorted with a vicious jab at the kid's side. After that, it blurred in a random succession of insults, kicks, fists and bloody noses. All dignity gone, they even tried to tear each other's hair off like children fighting on the playground. Jason found it therapeutic. First days were always stressing for everyone, socking your new roommate's face was a comparatively safe way to relax.

At some point he had a fistful of the kid's now rumpled shirt, pinning him to the blackened wall. Damian in turn had one hand in Jason's hair and the other at his collar, threatening to tear off the thin cotton. Neither would later admit who kissed who first.

It wasn't playful or sweet like Jason was used to, but it sure as hell wasn't inexperienced. Despite being a whole head shorter, the freshman got him exactly where he wanted with an ease which had Jason struggle to regain control. His hands pushed on each side of the shirt until he had the satisfaction to hear the buttons fly across the room. It seemed to irritate Damian further, judging from the way he banged Jason's skull against the wall to bite at the tender skin of his neck.

A low growl managed to escape his teeth, his eyes fluttering with growing arousal. The younger man was all hard lines and sinuous muscles pinning him as if he weighed nothing. His hard-on dug in Jason's thigh with such anticipation that he almost forgot his initial spite. Exploring the hard planes of his torso with less aggression than he originally meant to, Jason nearly moaned upon finding out his nipples were pierced.

His thumbs rubbed at them harshly, causing Damian to whimper against his clavicle. Next thing he knew, Jason's t-shirt and jacket had been thrown away with an angry noise, and his body pressed even more fervently against the cold plaster. He could hardly tell if the blossoming marks on his skin were hurting or not, lost in the sensation of the freshman rubbing his thigh between his legs.

A long shiver ran up the kid's spine when Jason leaned down to bite his ear in retaliation, followed by a loud, dirty moan.

"Some- someone's gonna hear you..." he tried to warn, only to be rewarded with a louder moan when one of his hands dipped past the waistband of Damian's boxer.

With a push of his hips sending jolts of pleasure through both of them, Jason exchanged their positions. Pinned to the wall by the wrists, the younger man looked _wrecked_. His reddened lips were shining with spit and a bit of blood from Jason's mouth, a large red drop still running from his chin. His gorgeous eyes were blown black by desire and remains of his previous anger.

In the dimming light, his dark skin looked warm and inviting. The small glints of the two golden beads circling his nipples were too irresistible for Jason not to close his lips on. The warm metal rolled easily on his tongue, earning him the most delectable shouts from their owner. His released hands flew to grip Jason's hair fervently, making him shiver with want.

Releasing the now taunt nipple with an audible pop, Jason kissed his way down Damian's defined hips. He took a moment to appreciate the visible V-shape of his muscles before raising his eyes. His hands rested on his belt, but did not advance further before he got some sort of confirmation that the younger man was also on board.

"I wanna suck your dick," he slurred, voice two tones deeper than usual.

"That much is obvious," Damian smirked, one of his hands tightly cupping Jason's jaw. "You don't see me objecting."

It might as well have been a direct command. A rough thumb came teasing his lower lip as he unfastened the younger man’s pants. His mind went wild. Without thinking about hiding his enthusiasm, he began sucking on the fingers that were presented him him. The way they rolled on his tongue, pushing down his throat, set his nerves on fire thinking about the dick that would soon replace them. Jason loved to have his mouth full, stretched on the edges of breaking.

He heard a short gasp as his lips mouthed the outline of Damian’s erection. His tongue lapped the pulsing vein there avidly, tracing its wild beat until the top of his length. Red and glistening with precome, Damian’s head fitted his mouth somewhere close to perfection. One of Jason’s hands closed at the base of his cock, not yet moving. The other one raking blunt nails on the inside of his taunt thigh. 

He was convinced the younger man had some sort of obsession about pulling his hair. Did not dare to imagine how messy it was. Did not really care, the salty tip of Damian’s length rolling on his tongue. His jaw ached a bit, but he knew how to relax, how to take it. Spit streamed down his jaw, onto Damian’s hand. He aimed Jason’s head with precision, hitting the back of his throat like a jackhammer. He felt used. He loved it. 

“Don’t touch yourself yet,” Damian commanded in a rough whisper, forcing Jason’s head away. “On the bed.”

A smart reply rolled at the tip of his tongue, but Jason decided better. Wrapping both arms around Damian’s waist, he had the satisfaction to hear him yelp as he was carried fireman style. The younger man’s back hit the bed with a loud thump, but neither noticed. Their lips crashed fiercely, fighting more than dancing for dominance. 

Somewhere along the way, all remaining clothes were discarded aggressively, scratching skin and biting skin. Jason felt the long red marks of Damian’s nails burn his whole back. He pushed him harder in the mattress, momentarily chasing the air away from his lungs.

He couldn’t get enough. He needed the friction, to take away the very few millimeters of skin left between their heated bodies, to be buried deep in Damian’s hole. To make him scream _louder_. His hand blindly reached for the lube and condoms in his nightstand. Which proved a difficult task when the freshman’s teeth dug in his shoulder. Didn’t keep his volume down, though.

“I want you inside me,” stated Damian in a relatively calm tone, given the frenzy of his moans. “But first you are going to prepare me. With your _tongue_.”

“What makes you think I’d wanna lick your asshole, pretty boy?” he snarked in return, in spite of his fervent need to comply.

Jason decided those tempting hips would look even more tantalizing with a few hickeys of their own, pressed his mouth just above the bone and started sucking.

“You are more enjoyable with your mouth full. Now don’t make me wait, I get bored easily.”

The snotty, indifferent tone had his blood boil like a river in hell. Jolting the younger man’s hips toward him, Jason sat on his calves and brought him up. Two shockingly smooth legs wrapped around his neck tightly. He didn’t need more incitation to put his mouth to good use.

As he had discovered earlier, Damian’s entire body was closely shaved, which provided unlimited amounts of skin to lap. His pink, twitching hole’s velvety texture rolled under his tongue. He could feel the initial twitching reflex, then the way his muscles relaxed. Soon, the legs around his neck were shaking lightly with pleasure. Damian’s face was cherry red, panting and whimpering with need. His erection bobbed up and down with Jason’s ministrations, otherwise completely untouched. Leaning on his elbows for balance, there wasn’t much Damian could do about that.

When Jason felt the last resistance go away, he slipped his tongue in and out a few times to make sure he would stay that way, before replacing it with his lubed up fingers. Three at a time. They slid in easily, turning Damian voiceless for a few blessed seconds. Jason watched with fascination as the hole stretched around his finger, experimented with licking the edges as he did so. From the way his thigh was nearly ripped off by the younger man’s nails, it was an appreciated gesture.

His biceps and lower back burned with exhaustion. Supporting the muscled mass Damian’s body pushed the limits of his gym training. Slowly untangling the calves splitting up his shoulders, he then took a few seconds of rest with both of them now around his hips. His ears rung with the effort, as well as Damian’s voice. He felt light-headed, distant from himself.

Jason felt more than he saw the impossibly soft way the other man brought him back to reality. The kiss was so tender it felt like another person entirely. Jason was pretty sure, as incredible as it sounded, that the way his arms curled around him could qualify as a hug, too. A series of light kisses ran up his jaw, until Damian’s hot mouth came to caress the shell of his ear.

“Would you prefer me to be on top? I am ambivalent to either position, as long as you hasten your pace.” The tone was still demanding and arrogant, but there was a hint of playfulness there too.

“As if you hadn’t already made up your mind,” he scoffed in return, guiding them so that he could rest his back against the headboard. “Well, come on pretty boy. Ain’t gonna ride itself.”

Damian looked like a cat in front of a bowl of cream. Jason was sure if he listened closely he could hear a purr. There was something purely satisfying in seeing the younger man eyeing his length as if he wanted nothing but to be impaled on it. One hand behind his head for support, Jason raised the other to pet Damian’s hair tentatively as he unrolled the condom on him. The younger man all but melted on the touch, but drew back in order to better straddle his hips. 

The sensation of his warmth slowly closing around his cock had Jason groan aloud. He barely had time to recover from the dizziness when Damian lifted and sharply drove back down. His voice levels almost matched the freshman’s as he rolled his hips like he was born for that. Both of Jason’s hands flew on the small of his back for support, as their rhythm increased. They were now breathing each other’s air, damp foreheads pressed together as they moved.

Having been mostly untouched until then, Jason felt his orgasm building with rampant speed. He tried to warn Damian, but found out words were beyond his reach. Unexpectedly, the younger man stilled completely, and shot warm ropes of cum on Jason’s stomach with a silent scream. The tight clench around him had Jason follow him in only a few rolls of his hips. 

The younger man completely collapsed against his torso, trying to catch his breath. Jason let him, petting his back gently. Admired the ink pattern between his shoulder blades, which he had missed until then. He could technically read the elegant Arabic calligraphy, but didn’t try out of respect for him. He highly doubted many people got to see the arabesques on Damian’s back. 

“Hey… would you mind if I smoked?” Jason asked after a long moment of comfortable silence.

The low grumble against his shoulder didn’t sound negative, and so he maneuvered with his free arm to find and light up one cigarette. He had learned that the satisfaction he felt was only a chemically-induced copy of the real thing, but damn if it didn’t feel good. Halfway through what would probably one day cause his death, Damian’s hand silently reached for it. This time however, it didn’t feel like a command, but a question. The only reason why Jason accepted to pass it.

A few exchanges later, the younger man had to reach across the bed to tap it against the ashtray. The movement was apparently the last straw for the poor furniture, which promptly gave under them. For a single second, Jason looked at a dumbfounded Damian with a look of pure shock. Then he felt -couldn’t help it really- the corners of his mouth tug up.

“This is as far from funny as possible, Todd.”

The more upset Damian looked, the less he found he could control himself. His eyes watered with laughter, and soon he was holding his ribs. Which only increased when Damian’s self control gave up and a smile stretched his lips as well.

“I still do not find the situation amusing.”

Breathing is difficult, when one laughs too hard. A punch on his shoulder did nothing to tune down his hilarity. A light grin still gracing his lips, Damian exhaled a long cloud of smoke. The wisps caught on the absolute mess of curl which had become his perfect haircut. 

"Let's put your newfound energy to good use."


End file.
